


Let the day become the year (you're alive, I'm alive)

by MuddlingAlong



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, No Plot/Plotless, Vanity Fest, Vanity Fest 2018, fluff and nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 17:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddlingAlong/pseuds/MuddlingAlong
Summary: An inconsequential glimpse into married Vanity down the line:Vanessa gets asked out, Charity ain't happy





	Let the day become the year (you're alive, I'm alive)

**Author's Note:**

> So somehow I missed the memo on Vanity Fest but oh my lord have I enjoyed everyone's contributions! Jeez Louise there are some really great people writing for Vanity
> 
> I've had this in my drafts for ages and I've given it a brush down so hopefully it's fit for purpose - it's the littlest, tiniest bit of fluff with literally no plot whatsoever, but I hope it's not too late to be part of Vanity Fest!

“So, there was this guy there, at the farm, thanks, babe-” she accepts the glass Charity offers, “he was- where’s the lemon?”

 

“What lemon?” 

 

Vanessa looks at her as if she’s speaking a different language, answers as if she’s explaining something very complicated, “the lemon that is customarily put in a gin and tonic.” She clicks her tongue on the last syllable and Charity rolls her eyes dramatically and huffs over to the back of the bar as Vanessa continues, “so this guy must have been what, twenty? Twenty-five?”

 

Charity slices into the lemon with exaggerated irritation, making the loud slapping of the knife against the chopping board impossible to ignore.

 

“Honestly, woman, you own a pub and you don’t put lemon in a gin and tonic?” Vanessa grins at the open-mouthed indignation on Charity’s face and folds her arms over the bar, “anyway, doesn’t matter, he’s young, right, early twenties, and he’s fit, like, _fit_ , muscles, stubble, that sort of weird floppy hair thing guys his age have, you know, like short on the sides and long on top-”

 

The gin and tonic, with no fewer than four slices of lemon, is thrust onto the bar in front of Vanessa with such force that half of it slops over the side, but Charity folds her arms, relieving herself of any responsibility. “It’s decorative,” she says grumpily, her bottom lip pouted like Moses when he’s over tired.

 

“What is?”

 

“Lemon, in a gin and tonic, it’s just there for decoration, you can’t actually taste it.”

 

Vanessa tucks her chin in, “what? Yes you can, you can taste lemon in water, can’t you?”

 

Charity, unable to think of a comeback for once and obviously not enjoying the feeling, just grunts and sulks against the bar. 

 

With a roll of her eyes that couldn’t be any more affectionate Vanessa continues, “ _anyway_ , this guy,”

 

“What guy?”

 

“Oh for goodness’s sake, Charity, the guy at Moorside Farm this afternoon, the young one who asked me out - hmmm, that’s a bit too lemony, actually, babe” she hums, waiting for Charity’s reaction as she sips happily at her drink.

 

But Charity doesn’t notice, “he asked you out?!” Her interest suddenly peaked, she stands up straight with wide eyes and raises her voice about three octaves.

 

Vanessa breathes in deeply, pushes it out through pursed lips and puts both hands on the bar, avoiding the puddle of gin, determined to make Charity wait for it now. “At Moorside Farm at approximately,” she checks her watch unnecessarily, “quarter past one in the afternoon, in the far field just outside the door to the milking shed that Mr Hicks uses in the summer months, the one that faces north-”

 

She pauses to gulp down her mirth at the open-mouthed thunder in Charity’s face “-this farm hand, Trent, I think his name was-”

 

“ _Trent_?!”

 

“He asked me out. He said ‘I like a woman who knows her way round a cow.’”

 

Charity’s face is pure, unrestrained horror, and Vanessa can’t hold back her laughter this time, “I know! Then he said, ‘do you wanna come round mine for “a bevvy”? Me mam’s gone out for the evening,’” Vanessa giggles, “and I said, ‘I’m old enough to _be_ your mam, love-’”

 

Charity balks, swallows, holds out a hand to stop her, “wait, _that_ was your first objection?”

 

Vanessa smiles past it, “and he said ‘age is just a number, Mrs Dingle,’ to which I said, ‘yeah, you know that ‘ _Mrs_ ’ bit in my name, that’s ‘cause I’m married, and if my wife were to know you were asking me round your place for a 'bevvy', she’d hit you so hard it’d wake up your dentist.’”

 

She pauses, basks in the too-rare feeling of having rendered Charity speechless for the second time in five minutes as she sips at her drink. 

 

Eventually she takes Charity’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and closes her gaping mouth gently, which seems to wake her up a bit.

 

Charity gulps, “there’s so much to unpack there, babe, I just, I don’t know where to start.”

 

Vanessa nods gravely, “seemed a shame to let him down, poor lad, he looked proper gutted when I said no.”

 

Charity’s lip curls in disgust, “little slimeball, who does he think he is, asking out a married woman?”

 

“Well, it cheered me right up, Pearl sent me out to the wrong farm on call out this morning and I had a right cob on all afternoon, shocked he took an interest to be honest.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Charity hums, running her index finger up and down the inside of Vanessa’s outstretched arm seductively, “you’re a very attractive woman, _Mrs Dingle_.”

 

Vanessa blushes, “well, he seemed to think so.”

 

Charity frowns suddenly, “I hope he got the message, this- Trent,” she glowers over the name, and Vanessa softens.

 

“You’re not _jealous_ , are you?”

 

“No,” Charity says, in a way that means _yes_. Her bottom lip is stuck out grumpily, and Vanessa moves round the bar and into Charity’s body.

 

“Really?” She nudges her lips against Charity’s cheek, all the while keeping track of Charity’s eyes which are gleaming.

 

Quietly, so quietly Vanessa isn’t sure she even said it, Charity whispers, “little slimeball,” and Vanessa smiles widely into her lips.

 

Charity responds eagerly, her hands immediately at the back of Vanessa’s neck, tangling in her hair and pulling her close.

 

After a second she pulls away, pouting, “how fit was he?”

 

Vanessa smiles, a little dizzily, “ _very_. I mean, like, body of Andy Sugden, face like- Orlando Bloom.”

 

Charity tries to frown, “he sounds horrible.” Vanessa smiles, brushes her nose against Charity’s chin, “and please, don’t ever talk about the father of my grandchildren like that. It’s just wrong.”

 

Her hands slide down her arms, reconnect at the small of Vanessa’s back. “I hope you’re not going back to this farm again, lady.”

 

“Charity, he was twenty years younger than me, looked a bit like an iced gem, thought the word ‘bevvy’ was acceptable, and er- I’m gay.” 

 

Charity widens her eyes, clearly waiting, “and…?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Vanessa pretends to remember and whispers, “I sort of have a crush on someone else.”

 

Charity grins, leans in and kisses the corner of Vanessa’s jawbone, “oh yeah? Fit is she? Really fit and great in bed?”

 

Vanessa pulls away slightly so Charity can watch her pretend to contemplate this, “yeah, can’t deny she’s incredibly sexy.” She feels Charity pull her closer with her hands on her hips, “but there’s a snag.”

 

“A snag?” Charity’s eyebrows furrow, a hint of genuine concern passing through her eyes, “what snag?”

 

“She doesn’t put lemon in her gin and tonics,” Vanessa whispers.

 

Charity’s reaction is immediate, dropping her hands from her hips and waving them in the air defensively, “I swear you can’t even taste it!”

 

Vanessa giggles and ducks out the way of Charity’s irritation gleefully, “I can’t believe I’m married to someone who thinks it’s acceptable not to-”

 

She’s cut off by Charity’s mouth on hers and she responds willingly, suppressing a moan as Charity’s tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, mindful of the pub full of people behind them.

 

As their lips part, Vanessa tips her head to one side, slightly dazed, “that’s really very childish you know, kissing me just to shut me up.”

 

“Are you complaining?” Charity quips, tongue between her teeth.

 

Vanessa smiles that smile she feels in her chest, warm and comfortable and content, “nope.” She leaves the haven of Charity’s arms and rounds the bar to finish her drink.

 

“You leaving me already?” Charity whines, her chin in her hands as she watches Vanessa swing her bag over her shoulder.

 

“Well, someone’s got to feed the boys, haven’t they? Plus I’ve got this hot date with Trent, haven’t I?” Vanessa suppresses a giggle, “got to make the most of his mam going out!”

 

Charity glowers, “I swear to God, if I ever meet this _Trent_ scumbag, I’ll-”

 

Vanessa interrupts her by leaning over the bar and kissing her soundly on the mouth. Charity hums against her lips and Vanessa feels it vibrate all the way to her feet.

 

“I’ll tell him to have his dentist on speed dial,” she says as they part, relishing the look on Charity’s face, part irritation, part arousal, “I’ll see you at home, don’t be too late, will you?” 

 

Charity, however, is not easily distracted, “tell him, next time you see him, that you have a wife who is not at all squeamish and would be perfectly happy to wear his crown jewels as earrings.” Charity huffs as Vanessa backs away from the bar, hands in the air and a massive grin on her face. “And I’ve been to prison before, I’m not afraid to go ag-”

 

“Bye, Charity,” Vanessa sings as she opens the door, pausing to blow her wife a kiss over her shoulder, waiting until she receives a reluctant smile and a little wave before she steps out into the street and into the sunshine.


End file.
